Inkblot
by Not a Hobbit
Summary: Life on board the Enterprise was normal, well as normal as it could have been, until Scotty found a cat down in engineering. To make matters worse, Checkov becomes infatuated with it right away, much to Kirk's irritation. Rated T for language and violence.
1. Discovery

I do not own Star Trek, nor do I claim ownership. My intent was not copyright infringement.

In the end, Jim supposed he could have blamed Scotty for the entire affair. Though truthfully, Scotty had only found it because of Keenser; who had dropped a wrench, and would not have done so had his hands not have been so slippery with oil. He in turn could blame a few nameless redshirts for horsing around instead of cleaning like they were supposed to, and they too would find someone else to blame, and eventually it would probably trail back to Jim anyways, so placing the blame on someone else was rather pointless at this particular moment.

Jim sighed wearily and cast a gaze at the source of his irritation; a small black kitten curled up in his chief engineer's lap. Scotty had found the feline when he bent down to retrieve the formerly mentioned wrench. How the creature had got there, and just where it had come from still remained a mystery, but both McCoy and Spock had confirmed that it was a simple Earth cat. Now Jim was plagued with the daunting question of what to do with it. Certainly it could not stay on the _Enterprise_, right?

As luck would have it, just as the captain was about to voice his opinion on the matter, Ensign Pavel Chekov walked onto the bridge after stepping out of the turbolift. In no more than three steps past the door, he noticed said kitten, rushed to the engineer's and captain's sides, and began to scratch the small creature behind its ears. Pavel's face lit up like a room that suddenly had all of its window coverings forcefully removed, the kitten emitted a small purr, and Jim could have sworn that Scotty's heart had melted, given the expression on the man's face.

"Mr. Scott, she is beautiful, wherever did you find her?" Chekov asked, his eyes and hand not once straying from the kitten's soft fur.

"Down in engineering; right by the matter-antimatter conversion chamber. We still have no clue how the little lassie got there though, or even how she got on the _Enterprise._" Scotty explained. The two were about to resume their conversation, but Jim interrupted with the clearing of his throat.

"Well gentlemen, that is exactly the problem; we have no idea where the cat came from. With no one to look after it, the cat cannot stay on board. We will be dropping it off at the nearest Starfleet base as soon as we are able." The captain was certain this was the best option; the faster they got rid of the feline, the quicker they could get on with their exploration of the universe. Jim was rather excited at the prospect of having solved an issue all by himself and was in the process of giving himself a mental high five when his hopes were ruthlessly shattered.

"What if I took responsibility for her, Captain?" Chekov ventured quietly, still petting the kitten. A small sigh left Jim's mouth.

"Mr. Chekov, you would need the approval of at least six uniformed Starfleet officers to authorize keeping a pet on board a research and exploration vessel,"

"I vouch for him." A Scottish accented voice retorted. The captain's gaze shifted to his engineer, a near glare forming on Jim's face as he willed Scotty to stop raising Pavel's hopes.

"I do as well." Sulu called from his console.

"Count me in too, Captain." Uhura's calm voice drifted from her station. Beside Scotty, Keenser nodded his head slightly; giving his silent approval as well.

Doctor Leonard McCoy was never a huge fan of cats, but the gleam in the young ensign's eyes when he first saw the furry little inkblot in Scotty's lap was tearing at his heartstrings. He had tried to keep from giving his opinion on the matter, but found he could no longer do so when Pavel's eyes looked into his own pleadingly.

"Jim, just let the damn kid have the cat," the doctor spat out. "You have convinced me to keep creatures far worse in the medical bay; you have no room to argue!" But Jim was dead set on the matter. And with only five votes of approval, he would have his way.

"Captain, I think allowing Mr. Chekov the opportunity to raise a cat onboard the _Enterprise _could yield interesting results and provide new and original information on life onboard a starship. I too approve of his request."

Jim was doomed from the start. He should have known he could never have held a candle to Pavel coupled with a kitten with far too big eyes. He had lost favor with his entire bridge crew, and now his Vulcan first officer had condemned him to share the same space with a cat, one of the creatures Jim hated most. He fought to quell the growing urge to complain about his situation or angrily object and bit out a one-word reply:

"Fine." The cat could stay.


	2. Name

I do not own Star Trek, nor do I claim to do so. All rights go to their respective owners. Copyright infringement was not my intention. I have no personal gain from this work, monetary or otherwise.

Chekov's kitten sat in the middle of a pile of blankets on the ensign's bed, purring contently as Uhura scratched behind her pointed ears. The lieutenant was sitting on the corner of the bed, while her younger crewmember stood across the room and replicated the items he would need in order to take good care of the kitten. Neither human would have liked to stay in such a small space; in fact Uhura had wanted to walk around the decks with the small feline, to show her around and most definitely not brag about the cat to her friends on board, however Jim had given Pavel the order to keep the cat confined in his quarters (not that he had expected the seventeen year old ensign to comply with that order for too long, but he did try). He had reasoned that if it was going to be Pavel's pet, then she could stay in his room.

"She's so cute Pavel, do you have a name for her yet?" The lieutenant questioned. A small, quiet growl of frustration worked its way up from Chekov's chest. That particular question had plagued his young mind since he had acquired the kitten just the day before. A sigh of defeat escaped his mouth.

" No, I haven't been able to think of one fitting enough yet," he said solemnly. "Perhaps you could help me?" Uhura's eyes widened in surprise.

"Of course, I'd love to help!" The eagerness and excitement in her voice was so contagious that Pavel's smile quickly mirrored her own.

"Thank you so-"

"No! Don't mention it! We haven't picked out a name yet!"

Thirty long and fruitless minutes had passed since Uhura had agreed to help Pavel come up with a fitting name for his kitten. They had moved their conversation to the table Chekov had not too far from the bed. Both Starfleet officers desperately searched their memories for anything that could possibly work in their favor. But no such luck had come to either of them. The kitten, who was no longer receiving the lieutenant's full attention, had begun to almost give some sort of feedback whenever a suggestion had come up, as if the creature could understand their words.

" Hmm, what about 'Spooky'?" Uhura tried. The black kitten then fixed both humans with a glare that could rival Admiral Pike's own. The suggestion was quickly denied and forgotten. The feline then went about cleaning her fur. A silent conversation between the two officers filled with obscure gestures ended with the conclusion that they needed further help in determining the cat's name.

"Who else is off duty now?" Chekov asked, his exasperation clear in his voice.

"I can't remember, but I'll go check," Uhura said as she walked over to Chekov's computer. Her fingers danced gracefully across the keys, searching for information and simultaneously conducting a quiet orchestra of clicks, taps, and beeps from the machine and its keyboard.

"Found it, um, let's see, oh! It looks like Dr. McCoy is on break right now; we could ask him for help." Pavel's small nod in agreement was the only answer Uhura needed as both got up from their seats. Pavel gently plucked the small kitten from her nest of blankets on his bed, earning a quiet, but disgruntled mew in response that had both humans stifling laughter as they made their way down the halls.

A unanimous decision was made to stop by the cafeteria and grab coffee. Chekov picked a medium vanilla coffee with far too much cream and sugar to be considered even remotely healthy. Uhura picked a large hot chocolate with chocolate drizzled whipped cream and miniature marshmallows for her, a medium black coffee for the doctor, and replicated a few cat treats in various fish flavors for the unnamed kitten. With their refreshments in tow, the three of them trekked down to McCoy's personal quarters.

Luckily, the doctor was indeed in his room, and not working through his break as he usually did. After knocking awkwardly with their feet (as both Uhura and Chekov had their hands full, and the kitten could not knock on the door for them) the trio was granted entrance.

"So, what can I do for you two, er, three?" McCoy asked, wiping his blackened hands on a scrap of towel and graciously accepting the coffee.

"We were wondering if you could help us pick out a name for her," Chekov motioned to the cat, who was now clawing her way out of his arms. McCoy motioned for him to put her down and let her investigate, which he did eagerly. "We have been trying for nearly an hour to pick one, but have had no success."

"Well, I've never been too fond of cats, but I did have quite a few growing up; my mother loved them. She even had a black cat like yours, but her eyes were green, not yellow. We called her Spooky."

The kitten stopped its investigation (she had been sniffing McCoy's bed and discovered that he used a different fabric softener than both Uhura and Chekov, who smelled of fresh rain, not McCoy's strange wildflowers) and glared at him. Her eyes seemed to possess intelligence far beyond what any normal cat should. McCoy made a mental reminder to confirm again with Spock that this was just a normal cat from Earth.

"That is eerie," the doctor commented. "Not something you see every day."

"She kept doing that earlier, that's why we couldn't pick a name." Uhura explained.

"It is strange, now that you mention it." Chekov chimed in. They watched in silence as the kitten jumped up on top of McCoy's desk chair and then climbed onto his desk and began to sniff around, transfixed by the unusual scents.

"What's up there? She seems curious to know what it is." Uhura asked. McCoy mentally repressed the urge to say that particular phrase about what curiosity does to cats and answered.

"Calligraphy. My daughter got me a set of pens for my birthday months ago, and I finally had some time to try them out. It was a hobby of mine in high school; she probably found out from her mother-" the trio watched in stunned silence as the kitten lifted her left front paw and dipped it in the ink. Upon finding it was wet, she shook her paw quickly to dry it off, sending black ink all across the walls, papers, and Chekov's shirt. When this failed to dry her paw, she walked across the papers and hopped off the desk, summing to a halt at Chekov's feet. She let out a small, distressed mew before Pavel picked her up and dried her paw off with the corner of his already ruined shirt.

Uhura bit back a laugh as Chekov apologized repeatedly to a surprised and softly chuckling McCoy, who explained that it was fine, as long as he helped to clean up the ink. After doing just that, Leonard made a suggestion:

"Why don't you call her 'Inkblot'?"

"Mew!" the kitten replied excitedly.

"Inkblot it is then." Chekov agreed.


	3. Vulcans

I do not own Star Trek nor do I claim to do so. All rights go to their respective owners. Copyright infringement was not my intention. I have no personal gain from this work, monetary or otherwise.

Special thanks to Vulcanlover12 for inspiration

Spock was in the process of walking from his quarters to the turbolift in order to be on the bridge in time for his shift when he heard it; a horrid noise that could rival the wailing of banshees. A group of several officers, mostly women, but only a few less men, were congregated around a younger officer wearing a red shirt, in his hands was a small bundle of black fur and big yellow eyes. It was Chekov's cat. _Inkblot, _Spock's brain provided. _The cat is with someone else, where is Ensign Chekov? _ Slowly approaching the group with his arms neatly folded behind his back, Spock cleared his throat to gain attention.

"Mister Spock!" The redshirt announced, a look of worry creeping into his young features.

"Ensign-" The Vulcan paused.

"Lawrence, s-sir, Ensign Nathan Lawrence."

"Ensign Lawrence, why do you have Ensign Chekov's cat?" At that, the crowd began to disperse, and rather quickly at that. Few brave individuals stayed to watch the situation play out, and to make sure Spock did not reduce the new recruit to a sobbing panic-ridden mess, which unfortunately, had happened on more than one occasion. (Not that Spock had intended to do so. Contrarily, Scotty, and occasionally Dr. McCoy had been known to do so as a form of initiation, or out of frustration with the cutbacks in the Starfleet Academy educational curriculum.)

Nathan's panic intensified as Spock began questioning him; he had not been stationed aboard the _Enterprise _very long, and was frankly intimidated by his superior officers, especially the cold, calculating Vulcan. Rumors spread through the grapevine of Starfleet Academy had warned of Second Officer Spock's intolerance of incompetence, and the overly severe consequences that would follow. Nathan shuddered at the resurfacing memories of hearing such rumors years ago and feared for the future of his career as an officer. Gathering up the torn shreds of his confidence, the young redshirt tried to find his voice.

"W-well I found Inkblot just w-wandering the halls, and I thought that I'd s-stop and watch," Spock raised one angled eyebrow. "T-t-to determine h-her destination of course!" The eyebrow resumed its normal post.

"S-she looked lost, sir." Inkblot had begun to rub her head against Nathan's hand, purring softly in an attempt to reduce the scared boy's nerves.

"Have you tired contacting Ensign Chekov?" The Vulcan pressed on.

"I tried h-his chambers, sir, but he w-wasn't there. I was about t-to check the cafeteria, w-when you arrived." The boy had begun to nervously bite at his lower lip.

"I will take the cat to the bridge with me; Ensign Chekov's shift begins shortly after my own." Ensign Lawrence nodded and gently handed Inkblot over. She took an almost immediate liking to the Vulcan, though she appeared slightly saddened by the loss of Nathan.

"Ensign Lawrence," Spock called after the rapidly retreating redshirt. He froze in place, and spun around quickly, pure terror evident on his face. "The rumors at the academy are mostly untrue; the only people I have ever placed in the brig have been criminals accused of crimes against The Federation." The boy nodded quickly, but did not leave, lest his superior officer have more to say.

"You followed procedure and did well, Nathan. You have nothing to fear. You may be on your way now." Spock added in an attempt to quell the boy's terror. A small smile crossed the redshirt's face. He gave a small "thank you, sir" before tuning and leaving, much more confident than he had before.

A peculiar sight was reported on the deck that housed the senior officer's quarters; a tired looking, but immaculate as always, Mister Spock was seen carrying around Pavel's kitten, Inkblot. The sight caused quite a stir, and though onlookers tried to be discreet, stealth was not taught at the academy, and thus they made themselves obvious:

Several crewmembers took pictures with devices that emitted loud shutter noises, only to be scolded by hypocritical peers who had previously done so themselves. A group of cadets had tripped each other in an attempt to be the first to see the strange sight. A sleep-deprived mechanic was shoved roughly out of the way, leading to their falling through a hole in the deck floor that had yet to be repaired and requiring the assistance of a medical officer. Said medical officer was so awestruck at the sight that they too, fell in the hole and a second, disgruntled medical officer was called to assist both injured parties. Another crewmember was seen being half-dragged half-escorted to the med bay after he walked straight into a door violently flung open by a half-awake officer who went to complain about the noise, and broke the former's nose nose.

Spock supposed he would have felt embarrassed by the situation and the reactions of his peers, but as he was half Vulcan, embarrassment was a foreign concept; so he silently continued his journey to the bridge and pondered what it would be like to experience embarrassment. Every now and then, Inkblot would stir, pawing gently at his blue uniform top and insignia, or rubbing her head against Spock's hand, neck, or chest. When out of view, the Vulcan would respond by scratching behind her ears and under her chin, eliciting a small purr from the kitten. After several minutes of crossing the overcrowded deck and an even longer ride in the turbo lift, which was stopped several times by curious onlookers, officers reporting for duty, and maintenance crews, the duo finally made it to the bridge.

The skeleton crew left in charge in the absence of the usual bridge officers worked quietly, occasionally making small conversations and informing each other of different changes in and around the _Enterprise. _Few managed to stifle a yawn, two openly slept at their posts, and one sat jittering, nearly twitching at their post, a coffee in one hand, and multiple empty cups by their feet.

Spock gently tapped the shoulder of the questionably awake officer in the command chair, and motioned for her to leave. She nodded in thanks, scratched Inkblot's ears, and left without a word or any indication that she had perceived the fact that her emotionless superior officer was holding a kitten while at work as strange. Other crewmembers came to replace the skeleton crew, and the caffeine junkie previously mentioned was escorted to medical, which then resulted in a call from McCoy, who angrily told the Vulcan that he did not have time for this and he would be complaining to Kirk and Rand about the scheduling.

Spock watched sleepily as the crewmembers came and went; talking only when it was necessary to do so, and scratching the kitten, now sitting contently in his lap. The morning crew took their sweet time showing up, and then even longer to wake up, so no one complained when Spock began to nod off in his chair, especially since it was a quiet morning and the Vulcan had been covering many extra shifts that week. The fear they had for their superior officer also kept them from doing so. Chekov arrived eventually, but seeing as though Spock and Inkblot had both fallen asleep in the captain's chair, he decided not to disturb them. Only when Captain Kirk made his way to the bridge did the noise level grow louder than a whisper.

"Good morning guys!" he started as he made his way to his seat. "And thanks again, Spock,-oh what the hell?" he remarked upon finding his second officer napping quietly with the kitten he so openly disliked in his lap. Inkblot opened her yellow eyes and cast a glare up at James, as of to scold him for being too loud.

"I did not authorize this!" Kirk responded, looking around the bridge for someone sympathetic to his situation. He found none.


End file.
